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John was having a really bad day. It felt like things had just been going wrong from the moment he stepped out of bed. First, he had tripped on the stairs and hurt his backside something fierce. Sherlock had asked him what was wrong, but he hadn’t really answered so much as cussed under his breath for a bit and walked into the kitchen to get some tea. Tea always made things better after all.
Sadly, it wasn’t meant to happen. Of course his insane flatmate had not thought it necessary to warn him that he had put some live tadpoles in the kettle. Well he said live tadpoles; once he poured them over the tea bag they obviously weren’t alive anymore.
Shouting at Sherlock may have released some of his pent up frustration, but it didn’t help for very long. When he went into the bath to brush his teeth he accidentally put shaving cream on his brush and ended up sputtering out the nasty taste. And of course he didn’t even have a good cuppa to wash it down with. This day was getting worse by the minute.
For a moment John considered not going out. He was meant to have a shift at the surgery, but he could always call in sick. Might be safer if the day went on the way it had gone so far. And his backside did still hurt from his fall so he wouldn’t exactly be lying.
But John dismissed the thought almost as soon as he had it. After all, spending a bad day with somebody like Sherlock could be way more dangerous than being around normal people. He thought of the tadpoles and cringed. Definitely not staying in the flat.
As he walked out the flat icy wind assaulted him and when he was about halfway to the surgery, icy rain started assaulting him. Of course he hadn’t brought his brolly and even if he had, the wind would’ve rendered it obsolete.
But things only seemed to get worse from there. An old man he had treated for as long as he had been with the surgery was close to death. He had transferred him to the nearest hospital, but he knew very well that it was unlikely he would last the night.
He had to work through his lunch break because the surgery was extremely understaffed and Sarah had been more than a little rude to him too. Their relationship had been strained at best since the break-up, but the added pressure of not having enough doctors in had made her more cranky than usual.
Towards the end of the day his throat was starting to hurt. He had probably caught a cold from one of the patients. Being out in the freezing rain without an umbrella must have made him more susceptible to it.
So when he trudged home was all set for the bad day to continue. Morosely he wondered what experiments Sherlock might have begun while he was out. It was quite possible that the flat was filled with toxic gas or something equally obnoxious.
When he entered the flat, however, his nose wasn’t assaulted by chemical fumes but instead picked up the heavenly aroma of fresh food. Surprised, he walked into the living room and found Sherlock sitting there, the couch table covered in all of John’s favourite food from Angelo’s.
John gaped.
“What is this, Sherlock?”
The detective arched an eyebrow at him.
“It’s dinner, John, isn’t it obvious?”
“Well yes, but, why would you have dinner ready? I always have to order dinner for the two of us, you never think of something as trivial as that.”
Sherlock visibly bristled at the notion of being incompetent in any area, even if it was ordering take-away.
“I am perfectly capable of ordering food, John. Now are you going to ask more pointless questions or are you going to come here and eat with me before it gets cold?”
John laughed and threw his jacket over a nearby chair. It seemed the universe (or Sherlock in this case) had meant for his day to get at least a little better after all.
“I’ve bought a selection of DVDs, you can choose which one you want to watch. They all sound equally dreadful to me.” Sherlock drawled, handing a selection of DVDs to him that had obviously just been released.
John felt like he had just been plunged into an alternate universe. It was quite possible that this was Sherlock’s attempt at an apology for the tadpoles, but then it didn’t really seem in the detective’s nature to admit guilt, let alone apologise, for anything.
He frowned.
“Why did you do this, Sherlock? You didn’t destroy any major items of furniture, did you? Anything I should know about? Is Mrs. Hudson alright?”
Sherlock scoffed.
“Everything is perfectly fine. I observed that you were having a bad day this morning. Then I walked past your surgery on the way home from Bart’s and saw that there were too many patients waiting. So, understaffed, obviously. Hence, I decided it was unlikely your day got any better once you had left the flat. Looking at you now these suspicions are confirmed. You had one of your patients die or at least close enough to death that it’s almost the same thing. Sarah snapped at you and you picked up a cold from one of your patients. I can hear the slight rasp of your throat. You really should wrap up more when you go out. Now, which DVD?”
John gaped. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this.
“Wow, that’s… really nice of you Sherlock, thanks.”
“Enough of the sentiment. Choose your DVD and eat,” Sherlock grumbled.
With a giggle, John looked at the DVDs. In the end he decided that “Salmon Fishing in the Yemen” sounded perfect. A comedy, something light hearted - much better than the other, more dreary alternatives.
After they had finished the delicious meal, John was starting to feel a little better. The movie was good, nothing spectacular, but pleasant enough.
“Sit down on the couch,” Sherlock ordered all out of a sudden.
Surprised, John decided not to argue. So far, Sherlock had been nothing but kind, why not humour him in this too?
As he moved to the couch, the detective went to the kitchen, rummaging in the freezer. When he came back he held a big tub of ice cream in the kitchen.
“According to my research, ice cream is essential for feeling better after a bad day. I’m not exactly sure if that’s true or how scientific these reports really are, but I could find so many guides on it that I decided to give it a try.” Sherlock’s voice was dead serious and John couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.
“You researched how to deal with bad days in flatmates?”, he gasped out between chuckles.
Sherlock pouted.
“How else was I supposed to ensure that I approached the subject correctly?”
This only made John giggle harder. The man never ceased to surprise him.
“Also,” Sherlock continued, “Even if the psychological benefits are overrated, this should definitely help with your inflamed throat.”
He put the ice cream tub in John’s hand, accompanied by a big spoon. Then he grabbed a blanket, draped it around John and finally sat down next to John, who shot him a quizzical look.
“You are supposed to lie down on my lap,” Sherlock explained, “Really, do I have to explain everything to you? I’m meant to massage your shoulders.”
With a shake of his head and another giggle, John lowered himself onto the couch and after a bit of manoeuvring, he was lying between Sherlock’s legs, his back resting against Sherlock’s chest.
He let out a relaxed sigh as the detective began massaging his tense shoulders.
Really, his day just got a lot better…